16.12.09

I received yet another request from an agent to read the complete manuscript. Hell yeah! Yes, and what's exciting about this is that he had already asked for a sample chapter. So he said they enjoyed reading that chapter and wanted the whole thing now. They want my bio and all that other stuff too. Cool. But "enjoy?" Yes.. insert drumroll here.. he used the word enjoy. Funny how I'm starting to hang on every word. Getting emo about it seems really stupid when I step back from it all. But, I mean, they don't say much, not much at all. Seems like the most popular word from agent rejections is "fit."

So forgive me folks if I'm somewhat excited. Maybe giddy? Silly? So what if it all comes to nothing in the end. For the time being, it's considered remarkable by writers that the manuscript has gotten this far in only four months and with only a handful of queries. For anyone in tall buildings and silk ties to even ask to read the beast is very cool indeed. I'm going with it folks. Santa is in my back pocket! Stay tuned.

13.12.09

Well not exactly yet. My birthday post noted that I'd sent out another little batch of query letters. A day later I received two rejections by email. Makes one think rejections are automated. No? Two days later, a very prominent fellow with a great sense of humor asked to read my manuscript. This is a big deal, so I am told. What do I know? I've never done this before. I'm thinking maybe the Simpsons stamps are working. Anyway, there are now four copies levitating around Manhattan. Did any of them go to lunch? To the bathroom? Away for the weekend? And this latest guy, D., has an unbelievable roster of publishing deals with all the big guys. It's a large agency in the works for 30 years or so. I'll stop now before I get nerve sick thinking about it. Tomorrow I go to class and pick up a class-load of final essays. That will keep my heals from going too high in the air. Actually, a stack of essays is quite like lead.

I still have a hangover. Unfortunately not from the martinis. It's nothing that a bloody mary can fix. The Memories & Martinis celebration went so well that, well, I'm a bit disoriented. What exactly happened that day? As a rule, literary events are not that well attended, unless of course the author is well known, has a book for sale, a big promo budget, it's a free event, or all the English majors on campus are required to file in to "report" on the thing as they would on the mating habits of opossums.

None of that is true about the Memories & Martinis event. For perhaps the first time in that town, lots of people paid to sit in a seat and listen to literature. They clapped, cried, and laughed. Yes, laughed. My intention with Frying Spam was humor. And to my amazement it was a success. I feel okay now about saying I'm a humorist. Nice. Going into it I had confidence in the work. But then, there's always a chance I was deluding myself. It wouldn't have been the first time I laughed at me when no one else did.

Some of the disorientation I feel is that I don't know what's next, outside of hunting down an agent. Maybe I'll land a few cherry reading gigs for the spring, start another book, drink some more wine, and teach and carry on as I have been. Perhaps the bitter ice of January will give birth to exciting things. Stay tuned. In the meantime, check out the photo video below of the event. Even if you weren't there, you might see yourself in the photos.

A big thanks to Pocono Comunity Theater, the musicians, the readers, and all who came out. We'll do it again in 2010!

6.12.09

it's after midnight.. the lonely hours have arrived once again.. the furnace hums past like empty subway cars down there with the pots of dirt that came in for the winter.. all i get is hot air from over there in the corner.. something strange coming out of some philly radio station too.. people chanting and banging on things.. don't have the mind to change the station.. always did hate changing stations.. could miss something they got planned.. you just never know..

there's a pile of query letters on the table in their envelopes all proper and all.. simpson stamps and nice addresses.. madison avenue, fifth avenue, west this and that on the 46th floor.. i only have two floors here.. just a few steps to the top.. anyway, those envelopes will be in the mail tomorrow.. my birthday.. then i'm off to teach two writing classes.. they have no idea.. no clue.. yet.

the query moves ahead.. a full report on the Memories & Martinis event last saturday coming soon too.. so stay tuned..
samuel

.:: about me ::.

I'm a slightly ordinary writer, songwriter, & teacher.. fascinated by all things pleasurable and sensuous.. I beat back existential miseries by drinking cabernet copiously.. & on occasion paint nudes, circus tents, & wildflowers.. before my more humanistic pursuits, I lived a monastic life of the catholic kind.. traveled extensively.. & later took up an education in writing, literature, & philosophy.. I currently teach college writing & modern lit & continue shopping my humorous memoirs to the suits on Park Ave.. Nice to know you.. and please share..

.:: about this blog ::.

Here you'll find updates on my adventures in landing a book deal for FRYING SPAM, my bizarre yet wildly humorous memoirs of a pentecostal preacher's kid abused by spam sandwiches & the color red.. follow along with me in near real time as I post snippets of my publishing journey..

.:: about frying spam ::.

Frying Spam and Other Things to do Before the Rapture is a memoir of a Pentecostal preacher’s kid growing up in a Pennsylvania steel town. Each chapter explores a formative humorous experience—from my kindergarten infatuation with Denise the pirate, to a pubescent French kiss lesson on a hayride with Jane, a hell-bound sinner. Narrated in the playful voice of a boy, these thirteen narratives embrace the oddities of my Christian Fundamentalist family and my curiosity for everything they said could send me to a lake of fire.

Frying Spam reveals a child fascinated by speaking in tongues, the butchery of a Quaker goat, the exorcism of a gay demon, and the impending doom and disaster of the rapture. In “Our Side,” I help Dad erect a wall between us and our Catholic neighbors. This chapter had its genesis during my graduate studies in creative non-fiction with Thomas E. Kennedy at Fairleigh Dickinson University. Other ideas, for the chapters titled “Fetch the Fowl,” and “Spam Sandwiches and the Color Red,” came to be while earning a BA in Philosophy and English. Click below for a read and a laugh.